


gold thread and second chances

by alwaysyourqueen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Guardian Angel Vax'ildan, Platonic Soulmates Sort Of, Strings of Fate, not just the red string but lots of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysyourqueen/pseuds/alwaysyourqueen
Summary: Vax'ildan can't interfere in mortal affairs, but he can watch over his charges. Or: a guardian comforts the Mighty Nein in their moments of weakness, and falls in love with them along the way.





	gold thread and second chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celebreultimaverba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celebreultimaverba/gifts).



> This is a gift for my beloved friend celebreultimaverba, who is so goddamn in love with Vax. I'm over a month late, but I hope you enjoy your Vax and M9-centric fic.

The Raven Queen had a tight bond with the whims of fate. They wove around everything she did, and she saw the strings of every color connecting everything. She knew the gold thread woven over the group calling themselves the Mighty Nein meant they were meant to be somewhere and to do something great, something wonderful.

Not that she knew what, but she watched the threads.

Vax’ildan saw the threads too. He watched as they wove themselves around people’s wrists, throats, fingers, legs, and hearts. They squeezed tightly or snapped or found new places to tuck themselves away. He hadn’t seen gold thread in the twenty years of his service, not since he’d had to move away from some of what he did.

The gold thread fascinated him, captured his attention, in a way not much else did. He stood and watched as the seven wandered through the city of Zadash and bumbled their way through interactions.

Experiencing the Raven Queen as he did was unique and not shared by many other beings in existence, and she was always with him and a part of him. He was still Vax’ildan, but he was more and less than Vax’ildan at the same time. He was Vax in the way that river water flowing to the ocean was still a river. It was and it wasn’t, and he was Vax and he wasn’t.

He still wanted things, though. He wanted to protect people. He wanted to see them grow. And his connection to the Mighty Nein wasn’t something the Raven Queen could ignore. Eventually, she decided the solution was to give one of her most beloved and loyal followers what he wanted. It was a reward and an assignment, to watch over the golden thread of the Mighty Nein and keep it from choking them.

So he did.

* * *

Caleb’s thread was always woven around his throat and through his chest. Close to him, intimate in their way, but painful and always so close to cutting him. Vax knew he couldn’t feel it himself, but his breathing was labored and there were several times a secret hand pulled at the thread, just a bit, to keep him going.

The pyromancer who feared fire winced when he looked into the licking flames of the tavern. Many nights he got up late, disturbing his own sleep but leaving his companions asleep in their rooms, and sat in front of the fire. He reached his hands out, the ever so slightly blackened tips of his fingers weaving back and forth and moving the flames. Vax stood in the darkest corner of the room, watching as Caleb kept the fire in his grasp.

This time, the fire jumped out at him, and it was clear his mind was not seeing what was in front of him. This was when Vax came to his rescue. His hands laid on Caleb’s back, calming him with the magic in his fingertips. “You are safe from the flames, Caleb. They don’t hold power over you. Go back to sleep.”

Caleb turned his head, looking for the source of the outside thought that just came to him. He never called himself Caleb in his mind, but there was an overwhelming sense of calm regardless.

Vax wasn’t visible, not to an eye with no magic and no knowledge of his existence. In this way he could watch over his charges without needing to explain why he was there. He wondered, a few times, if he could weave what threads were left on him into the ones of the Mighty Nein. Of course he couldn’t, even if he could theoretically, because he had a job now.

He stayed by Caleb for the rest of the night, occasionally comforting him and guiding him back to his bed. As he slept, Vax stood by his bed and made sure he got at least some measure of rest. The magic in him would never truly let him rest. A broken mind could not mend itself completely, but a broken heart would heal with the help of beloved friends. Caleb had those friends now, just as Vax had had them before.

Despite the fact they shared almost nothing in common, Vax felt a kinship with Caleb. A deep connection that held him there longer than he dared stay with others. If they had ever talked, Vax would have called him friend.

* * *

Fjord was bound to something more powerful than he was. He was a pawn in some grander scheme that Vax had no way of knowing. He did know that he had waited to take Fjord and found him still holding fiercely to life over and over. There was so much Vax didn’t know, and it almost got the better of him when he imagined going to adventure and find out again.

The sailor was buying fish one day, and his golden thread was bound about his wrists and ankles. Vax watched it from the crowds, standing amidst them unseen as people wove around the shadow in the midday sun.

Suddenly he remembered, from so long ago, being deep underground. With his family, a bittersweet memory as always, as they floated over a deep lake full of ancient creatures more terrible than a person could conceive of. He almost laughed aloud as he recalled that they likely could’ve slain everything in the water given their powers towards the end. But he considered that perhaps Fjord had made a deal with a creature such as that. Maybe Vax had nearly encountered Fjord’s patron before. Maybe he  _ had _ encountered Fjord’s patron.

That wasn’t relevant to the situation at hand. What was happening was Fjord was trying to ignore the noise in his head. It was louder than usual, though, and it didn’t help he walked near the sea. The voice of his patron was always there. Normally it was quiet, telling him what he needed to use his magic. Other times, like now, it was louder, telling him to do things and to plunge into the ocean.

Vax couldn’t listen to the voice for him, but he felt the tension as Fjord smiled and helped package up the fish he’d bought. The golden thread tied through the half-orc’s chest squeezed his heart, forcing its beats faster and faster while the half-elf watched. He took the package of fish, and then he spent far too long staring at the cascade of water that churned beyond the port. His eyes lingered for many seconds, until the strings bound around his ankles began to pull.

He was stepping towards the water when Vax wrapped his arms around Fjord’s chest and held onto him. “Don’t follow it. Your family needs you here.” He knew that Fjord couldn’t feel his arms physically, but the tugging force would stop him. Or slow him. Or something.

Fjord halted for a moment, then stopped and seemed to get his wits about him once again. He turned back and clutched his fish a bit tighter, making his way to the inn. In the process he stepped through Vax’s arms, breaking the invisible tether. Vax followed the line of thread until Fjord returned to the rest of the Mighty Nein, possibly not even realizing what he had almost done.

* * *

Jester Lavorre needed someone watching over her. Vax’ildan was a great choice. He felt as if he fell in love with her a little bit every time he saw her, as if his own red threads (bound to innumerable people, innumerable souls he could never again connect with) pulled him to her. It was his privilege to laugh when she laughed and watch her dance.

Unfortunately, it was also his duty to watch her cry.

He sat on the footrest as she cried, the quiet cry she did when she didn’t want anyone to hear or to bother trying to cheer her up. She was very good at crying alone because she didn’t want to make people deal with how much she hurt sometimes. Sometimes she just needed to get it out and go back to being a ray of sunshine.

Vax saw her crying, and it broke his heart. Everyone who met Jester loved her a little bit. It shocked him that her body wasn’t covered in thread, from head to foot just wrapped in the threads of the love she brought out in everyone around her.

The solution was to give her whatever he could. She might not notice the change, but it would make her feel better. It had to.

Vax moved from the spot where he sat, approaching Jester on the bed and running his hand over her hair in the most soothing manner he could fashion. He muttered, “It’s okay, Jester, you’re okay.” He waited for her to cry less, and she did, eventually. He looked over her prone form and it reminded him of the nights when his sister was caught by the horrors of their life, of the hatred in their blood, and couldn’t sleep. She needed him in the same way that Jester needed him right now.

He stroked the side of her face with his finger, wiping her tears away. It took a while, because her face was saturated with salty tears. Unlike most others, her tears ran cold, and he felt a slight chill in his fingers that felt strange. Then he reached for the blanket covering half of her and pulled it up to her shoulders. She settled in and whispered, “Thank you, Traveler.”

It was probably for the best that she didn’t suspect yet another powerful godly force was around her and complicating things.

When Jester finally got to sleep, Vax sat next to her on the bed for a while, making sure she slept soundly. It was an hour or so before he finally sighed, stood up, and left, leaving with no chance of her remembering he was ever there.

* * *

Nott sometimes had to live with herself, and those times always sucked. She remembered things about the past and the person she used to be, and she had to come to terms with being who she was now. On that front, her guardian angel could heavily relate. She had a confusing web of strands about her, threads that tangled and knotted and seeming as if they had been cut and tied back together haphazardly.

Vax sat down across from her as she was arranging her button collection in multiple piles, rated in order of shininess and size. He admired the careful way she went through her belongings, and it reminded him a bit of his sister in the way she always carefully cared for her ill-gotten goods.

There was a tenseness in the air regardless of the menialness of the task. Words unspoken were building in the back of Nott’s throat until she was nearly suffocating, the threads tied about her throat weaving ever tighter as she ran from them. Vax knew the feeling all too well, from time and time again not being able to properly say what he felt because of one thing or another getting in the way. It wasn’t the same, but by the Raven Queen it felt so personal that he wanted to tell Nott that she could tell him and vent her heart out so at least someone would hear her.

Instead of doing that because that was strictly against the rules, Vax set himself beside Nott and put his hand on the back of her torso. “Nott, you are very brave to face what you face. The water will not take you. Dare to leap.” It was the words that his mind told her she needed to hear right now.

Nott may have been crying a little bit, but no one would see it except Vax’ildan, who continued to pat her small goblin back and help her arrange her buttons. They were a very wide collection, a colorful assortment, and he almost pocketed one to take with him on his next assignment.

* * *

Yasha had seen more than enough of death in her life. Death weighed on her as constantly as the gaze of the Storm Lord, the eyes in the sky watching over her as she carved through enemies with her greatsword.

Death also took its toll on Yasha. Those she loved often died. When she stood above the precipice of the countryside, watching a storm roll over the field, she had to wonder if she brought the death with her. She contemplated her place, if she was somehow the cause of the death of the people she surrounded. The threads of her life all converged in her heart, squeezing it and pulling her ever forward, sometimes away from her family.

There was an ever-presence of death in Vax’s life, too. He’d found himself thinking the same thing, and then, of course, he chose to serve the Raven Queen. Death became much more a part of him, and he’d had to come to terms with death every day of his service to her.

Together, the two of them were haunted by the spectre of death. It was a grim reminder of the realities of living in the world that they did, but it still hurt. Vax understood better than anyone the pain of death as your company. That was why he saw himself in Yasha, and also why he saw her strength. Not her muscles, though he appreciated muscle and specifically muscle that reminded him of his family (mostly Grog), but her strength of will. The will to continue.

Yasha watched the storm pass, the rain coating her and soaking her through. There wasn’t anything really to say to her at least at the moment, so Vax came up next to her and took her hand. She didn’t seem to notice, but reflexively she held his hand tighter. Tight in the comfortable, enjoyable way. They stood that way in the rain for a long while.

When Yasha seemed to possess herself again, Vax said, “You are not death. You are life.” It was all he could think to say, and all that would alleviate the roar in her mind. Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving nothing but two dry spots on the ground where he’d stood. For the first time in a long time, her threads loosened The barbarian turned to look who was speaking to her, and the rain almost made it look like she had been crying.

* * *

Caduceus Clay lived alone for a long time. He was mostly content with everything, but there was a nagging thought in his mind of when his time would come. When he’d see more of the world, meet more of his people, find more people to share his place with. He was patient by nature, but sometimes impatience took over despite that.

What Clay couldn’t see, but Vax could, was the gold thread woven about Clay’s head. It was irreversibly pulling him towards the wayward adventurers known as the Mighty Nein, and he would find them and meet them soon. Vax couldn’t see how soon, but Clay was hurtling down a path to find the companionship he longed for.

Vax stayed with him, just for a little while. He examined the plants in the garden, he watched as Caduceus made tea. He followed some of the threads coming out of the firbolg’s garden, the slowly decaying threads of the souls there. It was beautiful in…the way that things that are sad are beautiful. He wished that Clay could see it too because he would find it beautiful.

An afternoon of having tea was the end of Vax’s stay. He had other duties, but he could spend this afternoon with Clay and come back again eventually when the paths of the golden thread crossed again. Caduceus’ tea was boiling and he had two cups set out. It was polite, he thought, just in case a visitor came along at the right time. He poured himself a full cup of tea and left just a half cup in his visitor’s cup, sitting at the side of his little table.

It was soft and relaxing, the scene of this massive firbolg having some tea and waiting to see if perhaps a stranger came along. Vax decided to indulge himself and sat across from Clay. In a moment when the other was distracted by the sound of a bird outside, he sipped the tea, and patted Clay’s hand with his own. He stood and said, “Thank you for the hospitality. They’ll be here soon.” Away he went, leaving a not completely fazed but perhaps slightly confused Caduceus behind.

* * *

One of the most difficult cases of help within the Mighty Nein was Beauregard. She was — well, she just was so resistant to change she didn’t initiate. She was fine with learning how to be more personable because she had asked Fjord for help. But having a stranger telling her that she was going to be okay? She would punch that stranger in the face.

It was in her training that the help would fit best. Slipped in between thoughts and while adrenaline was pumping. She was facing a tree with two layers of cloth wrapped around it, throwing punches and beating up her knuckles against the rough bark (even when covered). She swung her legs around in fierce kicks and only looked satisfied when she heard a cracking noise, and luckily none of them yet had been a part of her body cracking.

Vax watched her train and admired her form. Despite being the undisciplined, rowdy student, she was still more disciplined and refined than many fighters became in their entire lives. He once or twice helped guide her hits, bumping her limbs to make sure that they met their mark correctly and struck true. She was an impressive force and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. It was something like falling in love all over again, though he couldn’t place when he’d fallen in love with her the first time. He kind of fell in love with everyone, and he supposed it should be expected that a powerful woman like Beauregard fit the ticket for him.

“Keep your chest loose.” He saw the fiery red hair of Keyleth for a moment as he shook his head. “Find their weak spot and-”

“Destroy it,” Beau echoed out loud, not sure what or who she was responding to. She was breathing hard, her fists sitting calmly against the tree where she’d just struck. She was coated in sweat and yet her entire body was running cold.

Vax saw the threads that held her back were loose, finally giving her some room to breathe as she tried to let herself free for some time. She had more threads than she would have expected, leading to a hundred different places but most surely and most strongly to the Mighty Nein. They were woven in the fabric of her destiny.

And for some reason, it seemed like she might not mind that.

* * *

“Mollymauk,” Vax says, looking towards the tiefling laying about on the road.

They stand up, blinking in the daylight. “Who’re you? And where am I?”

“Right where you remember,” Vax answers as he reaches a hand out for Molly to take, “Come with me. I believe the Raven Queen would like to meet you.”

Molly accepts his hand and moves up to his side to walk with him. “So what’s your name, handsome?”

“Vax’ildan.”

“And how’d you get this gig?”

Vax laughs. “It’s a long story.”

“Then tell it,” Molly responded, weaving their arm through Vax’s as they stepped off the material plane.

“It started back when I was a young elf. My sister and I ran across this group of assholes while doing some investigating, and I decided they deserved helping.” Vax was not at all minding the way in which Molly was holding onto him. In fact, he was enjoying it far more than a proper servant of the Raven Queen should.

“I know something about meeting a group of a-holes who convince you that the world is a decent place to be and you do benevolent shit to help them out.”

“Do you see now?”

“See what?”

“The threads. The love.” Vax gestured at the numerous threads extending from the both of them, including one thread of color neither could acutely perceive yet binding the two of them.

“Are you saying not everyone sees those?” Molly looked genuinely surprised at the question and the clarification. They seemed to move about with the thread as if it were as easy as breathing. (Which it was, usually, when you didn’t know they were there.)

Vax laughed again, a hearty laugh as they stepped into the court of the Raven Queen. “You always did see a little bit more, didn’t you, Mollymauk.”

“I’m just clever that way.”

“Care to help me finish the story?”

“With pleasure, Vax’ildan.”


End file.
